Beautiful Eternity
by True China Sorrows
Summary: The world is not alone. In its depths resides another. Within its soul resides a third. Here, in the swarm of confusion, a darkness lurks in even paradise. Yet, darkness is only light's shadow, and within its joint heart there lingers a love that can shape the ages. If only it will be allowed.
1. Chapter 1

Beautiful Eternity

Rydia stares out across the star speckled land. The treetops shimmer, their leaves dazzling. In the distance the lake lustres: a perfect reflection of the clear sky. She sighs, straightening up, her hands pushing against the soft stone balcony railing. She stares at the sky for a long moment.

She sighs. "I wish I could be you,"

They glow brighter. Their lustre far outshines all of her land's beauty. The vivid viridian fades to ruin and withers ashamedly below the stars. Sorrow whispers with the wind as it drifts along the ground.

"Rydia!"

She sighs, once more, lamenting deeply. "I am here,"

Her long emerald sleeves slither across the stone. The soft steps of her retreat whisper along the floor. Her sad eyes glance down. She wraps her arms around herself comfortingly. The harsh life of luxury bears down on her.

The disapproving expression on her mother's face greets her. "Where were you? Didn't you hear me?"

Her arms drop to her sides at once. "I was…"

"You were out on the balcony again, weren't you?" her mother sighs. "I'm beginning to regret having had it built. For now, though, Rydia, I suppose you can make use of my room. I have the lock to its balcony so you should be fine."

Rydia nods obediently. The silence speaks of discontent but her mother fails to notice. Her mother has always failed to notice her feelings.

Her mother sighs. "Rydia, dear, please return to the garden. I believe your father wants you there,"

She curtsies. "I shall, mother,"

The slow pace of her retreat goes against her nature. As she turns into the hallway she notes its emptiness. Her eyes drift closed for a moment. The inner workings of her mind scream at her to run, but the reality of etiquette and decorum keep her pace as it is. The stern face of her father breezes through her mind. He isn't to be tried.

The windows shimmer under the radiant moonlight. Its penetrating rays stray to her curiously, almost as though it's a comforting hand. Rydia smiles faintly, steeling her nerves as best as she can. Her parents offer no comfort. The servants are rarely seen and don't dare speak; to each other; to her parents; to her.

Rydia pauses in the doorway. The gracious marble arch holds her in its protection. She composes her expression to the haughty highness she was bred to be. Her father takes no notice. He stands further away, at the hedge maze. His fingers hold fast to tangled brambles. His back is to her.

She lowers herself gracefully onto the long stone steps. "Father, you summoned me,"

He raises his hand, his forefinger gesturing to the sky, and she immediately halts. His expression isn't needed. His fury has already been awakened. The soft rustle of silk whispers across to her and she suddenly feels foolish. She takes a deep breath, clasps her hands neatly and lifts her head solemnly. No anxiousness or nervousness is betrayed.

Eventually he turns. His dark eyes blaze calmly. "My daughter, you have come as required,"

She remains soundless in his silence. The slightest disruption could set his temper further ablaze. She simply smiles. She hopes it's enough.

He nods, solemn. His lips curve. He seems suddenly light-hearted; almost pleased, but he isn't. He never is. He only acts.

"My daughter," he says, as if testing the words. "Do you know why I have called you?"

She softens her expression. "No, father, I do not,"

He glances at her. The annoyance has returned. He gestures for her to approach almost hesitantly. She obeys at once. When she joins him at the brambles he places his hand on her shoulder. It sets her on edge at once.

He speaks softly but his words are a command. "Look through this, my daughter,"

She gazes at it quietly. The mask of curiosity slips on without fail. The gentle line of her lips moves to provide the act with substance. She glimpses a deep valley cut into the earth. The endless sea of grass sways without people or houses in its way. At the other side are mountains rising to the clouds. Then, there, between two towers of earth there flickers light.

She gasps quietly: not acting. "Father, what is that light?"

He pats her on the back, pushing her away. "It is a kingdom, my daughter. It is a kingdom that you shall be bound to,"

She glances at him. The curious mask is harder to wear. A knot of dread is ever tightening within her soul. She struggles not to crease her brow or voice her worries aloud: she has never faced such troubles before. _Life is a game_, she assures herself, _be the one that cannot be defeated_.

Her voice betrays her slightly. "I shall be bound to it, father,"

He smiles, but not at her. "When you marry the prince of that land a new era shall be awoken. We shall lay claim to all it holds and take it for our own. The people shall know loyalty to me, to my forces, to my whim… And you, my daughter, you _shall_ please the prince. You shall not fail me. Do you understand?"

She nods. "Yes, father, I do,"

He nods, his focus turning back to the flickering light. Rydia turns, her purpose made clear, and leaves as he wishes. The resounding _clack_ of her shoes on the marble is muted to her mind. She walks on without sight or sound and fear growing in her chest.

She wants to weep. She wants to scream. She wants to take her silks and tear them to shreds. She wants nothing of the blood in her veins or the pulsing of her numb mind. She craves oblivion: the endless darkness, not a single existence, no life, no soul, no afterlife, no emotion, no escape. She struggles to breath.

The door to her room opens and she enters. She slumps against it and it _bangs_ shut.

**Author's Note: This chapter was started on the 29****th**** of May and ended on either the 5****th**** or 6****th**** of June. Does the Author's Note count as work on the chapter? Yes? No? Hmm, that is an interesting question… Regardless of that, however, is the basis for this tale. Oh, you already know what it is? I suppose I should have known… *giggles* It was rather obvious, wasn't it?**

**Yes, ****仙劍奇俠傳 ****strikes again! It's the very same couple as last time – Xú Chǎng Qīng and Zǐ Xuān. I just love their story. It's really, for me, the only good part. I just despise that television series with a fierce, burning passion. From now on the television series doesn't exist, okay? D'accord?**

**Thank you for reading. I do hope that you have enjoyed reading this story thus far. I apologise if I have disappointed you in some way.**


	2. Chapter 2

Beautiful Eternity

The fierce flames of the Dwarven Realms flicker and flare. Their violent upsurges and ground shattering flares rock the dark palace. Its unusual place at the edge of the mountains near the rim of the fiery sea places its foundations at great risk. Its people, for the palace was inaptly named, live their lives cowering and huddling the closest to land they can reach.

A waterfall of magma erupts violently. "Oh!"

An amused chuckle follows.

A dwarf scurries over to the Crown Prince. "Sir, are you _sure_ this is a good idea?"

Kain sneers. "Of course I am. What do you take me for?"

The dwarf stammers. "Of course, my lord, of course you are. I was only enquiring. It is customary to enquire about the welfare of…"

He staggers back. His hands clutch at his chest. His teeth chatter in terror. The Crown Prince continues to advance on him. The devilish glint in his eyes terrifies the lowly servant. With a swift swipe the dwarf's tunic is caught between his claws.

Kain bears his teeth. "I hope you are not attempting to discredit me, _slave_,"

The dwarf isn't a slave. He would protest his rank as the King's trusted aide if faced with anyone else - if his life were not on the line. Kain only grins down at him: a hunter, a prey, a game of death.

"My son," a deep voice booms. "Place my aide down. He is _not_ your intended."

Kain throws the dwarf. The diminutive creature spirals through the air. Then, the wall reaches him in all of its malignant, malicious glory. He smiles his arrogant smile.

"_My son_," the voice booms again. "_End your rage_! _Quell your fury_!"

Kain shakes his head snidely. "I'm afraid not,_ father_. I have greater ends to meet,"

His obsidian cloak flutters. The heels of his boots _click_ sharply. A smirk comes to flourish over his sharp features.

* * *

The angered cries of the death tempters rise. In the crowded cobbles the white hands whisper. They mock the end, the finality. Their woes are too great for a world so cruel.

"I don't believe this,"

The prince stirs. "What is it, Rosa? What do you see?"

She glances at him. "The peasants are gathering. Their eyes turn to the Palace,"

He laughs. "They wish to wish me well! Ah, the princess, I have been told, is a beauty. I expect her to enchant the peasants into obedience,"

Rosa frowns at him. "No beauty is so great as to quell the senseless,"

She wanders to his throne. The lack of guards has made her bold. She crouches by his side, her hands rest upon his.

"I would not underestimate them, my prince," she urges. "They know nothing of your greatness. They know only their own ignorance."

He laughs. "No, Rosa, _you_ overestimate them. What is this talk of anyway? You're ruining my mood,"

She sighs. "My prince, do you believe in love?"

He leans back and glowers at her. "Are you senseless too, Rosa? I want you to leave me be!"

She looks him in the eye. "Do you believe, my prince?"

His lips settle into a grim line. "No. Of course I don't. Why would I? This is a beneficial marriage to her and to I. There is nothing more to it. Why are you so intent on ruining on my fortunes today?"

She stands. "I give my apologies, dear prince. I shall leave you in peace now,"

She stalks into the deep darkness of the palace. A deep and untamed wrath descends upon her heart. She scowls and it mars her pretty face. To avoid all doubt of loyalty she stalks the secret passageways. The ancient corridors are tilted and the moss infested stone bricks crumble precariously. They lie uncared for and unknown.

The tall pillars climb upwards as the passage declines. The stones shift beneath the rising waters. Its black colour and putrid scent coalesce around her petite form. It clings to her, dragging her deep into their depths. She lets it, savouring the satisfaction of her descent.

"Let this be a lesson to you, _fool_. No one surpasses me but I," a snide voice calls. "What use has success delivered to you now? I see little other than an ignorant, conceited-"

The pillar he had hid behind crumbles. The tidal wave of its fall into the bleak waters spreads swiftly. Rosa's waist is splashed. The long tassels of her shirt stick to her stomach. She brushes them back into place. Her scowl deepens.

"Have I upset you?"

She glowers. "Kain, you _fool_. Have you no respect for your father?"

He sneers. "You, my lady, are not my father. You know nothing of his ways,"

She snarls. "Kain, do you dare test me? I-"

He laughs, drawing an orb from behind his back. Its ethereal light lustres in the eternal darkness. The water around him froths in horror. It flees in ripples. He raises it higher, threatening to drop it into the waters. His smirk flourishes.

She straightens and composes herself. "_Please_, Kain, don't do that. You know it won't survive,"

He glowers. "It won't be the only vitality to wilt at your whim, Rosa. It won't be the only one,"

She stares at him. The memories of their childhood strike calmness to her core. Her hands clasp before her chest. She stares at him with wide and once more innocent eyes. The darkness has faded to oblivion.

She whispers. "Kain, please don't do this. I'm doing everything you want. I have the information that you need. I have an endless source of information,"

He shakes his head. "Not everything,"

She sighs. "I don't love you, Kain. I can't love you. I don't have that ability. I must have been born incomplete,"

He constricts it. The _splash_ of hungry water washes over her. A few rare bubbles of breath rise to the surface. No struggles are made.

The tide revives. It draws her further into the darkness. The deeper waters relish its fresh captive. Kain stows the intact orb in an inside pocket of his cloak. He dashes over the rippling surface and snatches Rosa's hand.

**Author's Note: I know exactly what I'm doing. There's no need to worry at all! If the end is a little iffy then it's because I'm **_**tired**_**. I'm always tired, so, you know, not much going on there. Anyway, I'm not going to tell you what the 'orb' is. I know and, for now, that's enough. I promise that it's something to look out for! Oh, and Rydia will return in the next chapter so you have that to look forward to!**

**Thank you for reading. I do hope that you have enjoyed this confusing chapter. I apologise if I have disappointed you by corrupting canon. Perhaps, though, that deed is not so far spread as you may believe.**


	3. Chapter 3

Beautiful Eternity

The carriage rocks uncertainly. Rydia takes a gulp of fresh air. Her hands shake. Her eyes dart. Her lower lip trembles. The kingdom of Baron is unlike anything she's known before. Her heart hammers mercilessly. She presses against the plush silks of the sedan.

A shiver races down her spine. The hands of the peasants cling to the guards that pave the road. Some stretch further out and are swiftly dealt with. Their inability to physically touch Rydia is rendered useless. Their wails are impossible to ignore.

"Are you unwell, Rydia?"

She glances up and feigns that she isn't on the verge of retching with anxiety. The smile that scratches across her face throbs with a faint sort of aching. Her dull eyes contrast starkly with her wintry pallor. The unease ripples through her stomach.

She nods politely. "I am well, mother. You have no need to worry about this union,"

For the briefest of moments her mother appears almost disappointed. A naïve hope sprouts in her heart. She quells it swiftly and turns her strength to impeding the sound of the people's wails. A ghost of a palpitation murmurs in her chest. She sighs sharply. The nausea fades slightly. She retreats into herself with a fervent hope that fate deals her a better hand than it has ever thought to before.

The flicker of gilded crimson sparks amongst the crowd. Rosa slips back into the inky depths of the alleyway. She draws the mask from her face. A mild glimmer of distaste blossoms across her features. She would drop it if such an act had any benefits.

Around a corner she finds near emptiness. The jostle at the far away end tells of an angered crowd. She sneaks to a sewer. The cover is half off. Putrid black liquid burbles and froths. A strange swamp green lines the liquid.

She murmurs in her quietest tone. "The princess has arrived,"

The liquid erupts with a toxic spray. It sears through the upper skirt with deep black burns. Rosa rips the upper layers away. It cannot be allowed to touch her. She exhales sharply, retreating with haste. A hateful chortle explodes in her ears. The oblivious crowd remains lost in their ignorance.

She flees to the edge of the masses. A crumpled silhouette hunches feebly. The cloak is ripped from his skeletal shoulders. The clasp fastens and Rosa belongs, again, to shadows. She presses against the dripping walls of sodden stone.

A hand brushes against her shoulder. "Come now, Rosa. We would do well not to keep the prince waiting,"

She nods slowly. "Yes,"

The shadowed gleam of Kain's armour infects her eyes. The darkness is impenetrable. Even the burbling sewer seems to acknowledge that. She clutches at the fabric closest to her heart. It beats against her. She closes her eyes, inhaling sharply. Even her body rebels against her actions.

* * *

Cecil rises, head held high in princely glory. The silver of his crown glistens proudly. He watches Rydia approach with her head held equally high. She allows none of her anxieties to destroy the façade of cold composure.

They roving, featureless eyes of the nobles travel by her side. Their casual disinterest scalds the air with iciness. She watches her betrothed and allows the faintest slumping of her shoulders. There is no sudden abundance of love - unrequited or otherwise- and the bitter reality twists her temperament.

"The princess of Mist approaches: her Royal Highness Rydia!"

She halts before the steps to the throne and drops to her knees, inclining her head as is custom of her people.

"You may rise,"

She obeys at once. Looking up, the world sways and contorts to shadows and sorrows. The feeling that she should be wearing a griever's veil comes to mind. Instead she smiles as graciously as is possible to the prince. He smiles in return, a polite, courtly smile that bears little sincerity. As her parents move to stand by her side the relief of their presence soothes her.

Her father bows first. "Ah, Lord of all of Baron, King to the Stars, how pleased I am to stand in your gracious presence,"

The King of Baron laughs. "It is indeed a great pleasure to see you too. You must tell me of your journey. Did you travel well on my new roads?"

The guests settle into small conversations of their own. Her father ventures up to the King of Baron. Two of the Royal Guard of Baron step into stride with him. The Queen of Mist, fluttering her eyes and smiling fallaciously, wanders away to speak with nobles. Standing by herself Rydia almost collapses.

There was no protocol given to her. She glances to her father, to her mother. She knows not where she should be or what she should do. The silks of her sleeves shiver. She takes deep, choking breaths but the anxiety strengthens.

The prince is turned away. He chuckles and converses with his mother. A strange loneliness touches Rydia. She speaks rarely to her mother, and when she does it is because she was summoned to discuss politics or etiquette.

"Are you well, princess?"

She turns. "Yes, I am,"

The lie is plain to hear. The woman merely smiles, her gilded hair shimmering as sunlight. Her eyes, of truest emerald, glisten softly.

"Are you all right, princess?" she enquires after a moment's stunned silence.

Rydia swiftly regains her detachment. "I have answered you. Do you insult me? Who are you?"

The woman smiles as she tucks her hair behind her ear. "My name is Rosa. I serve the Royal House of Baron. My services are often summoned for by our prince Cecil,"

Rydia's fists clench loosely but little wrath is conjured. "Is that to remain so?"

Rosa stammers, caught off guard. "I am no threat to you, princess. Our prince is your betrothed. He knows loyalty only to you,"

"What an uncommon response. Of course I shan't suspect you," she turns and hastens through the shifting crowd.

Her eyes blaze with artificial anger. None recognise her in passing as they chatter idly to one another. A great hall stretches out from behind two grand doors. She throws them open and enters into the swarming shadows. There, even her foot falls sound softer.

**Author's Note: Oh, I am so excited! I can't sleep so I'm uploading this! I'm going to my first Comic Con today. I've made my own Cosplay, the first, again. Oh, making an outfit is rather hard... I've loved every moment, though. There is no pleasure quite like wearing something that you've spent months making. That being said, it wouldn't have taken as long if I were more diligent, and I do sort of wish I'd chosen someone from **_Xian Jiàn_** instead. Perhaps, maybe I should have gone with Líng'er or Twilight... Ah! I'm losing track! The other reason that I had not uploaded this sooner was because I was on holiday. They were charging money for use of the wi-fi, which, according to my former telecommunications father, is free. That and I now have the flu, and hay fever, and a sore ankle from the trip and a fluctuating temperature. Who knew Scotland would be fifteen degrees celsius at night? Oh, and, I've been obsessed with Itazura na Kiss. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I don't usually finish a series no matter how I love it and this... anime and adaptation with four more lined up and my obsession without any end in sight... **_*sigh*_

**Ah, I do hope that I haven't lessened your disposition.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Beautiful Eternity

Rydia gazes out over the starlit sky. Her head rests on her palms and she sighs mournfully. The glitter of the torches cast over the city to her left. She can barely see them. She returns to the sight of the mountains and the sky and trees.

"An astonishing spectacle, is it not, princess?"

She turns, startled. "Who are you?"

The shadows seem to quiver. "I am but a servant of this Royal House. Please excuse my interruption, princess. I could not resist. You are finer than the rumours say,"

She scowls. "It is not your place to speak to me. I shall tell the prince of this,"

Rydia turns her back to the unseen servant. Her hands clench upon the ornate stone balustrade. There, she attempts to calm her disquiet. The servant, having allowed moments to pass with glee, finally allows laughter. The deep chortle echoes out on to the balcony. She spins, arms out, eyes blazing to the impenetrable darkness: her suspicions met.

He moves fluidly, though she can barely tell. "Do as pleases you most, princess. The prince shall hold sovereign for but a fleeting instant,"

She steps towards him. A hard iciness spreads over the emerald seas of her eyes. The cage of her life crumbles and all decorum dies.

"You may not speak so lightly of a prince," she commands, head held high of her own accord. "If you are to dare to scheme a coup then do so! Do so as often as you wish or as seldom as you dare! There are lives to be lost in any genius and by what right have you to ruin them by self-appointment? Now, do it! Do it! I know what you think. Slay me too if you must. I know too great a deal of this than is safe. Take your undoubtedly hidden knife and smite me!"

He speaks no word and makes no movement. His eyes seem to have lost their penetration of the dimness. The sound of breathing comes only from Rydia. She strains to silence her breath, to hear her death approach. Still there is no sound.

She retreats by a single stride. The unfathomable inferno of her eyes flares still. There is no surrender to her gait. She issues silent challenge. Her hands glide across the balustrade. She has no weapon in her possession. If he wishes to end her then no obstruction should stop him.

He remains in shadows, however. His eyes stare out, watching solemnly. A new spark has been birthed. He glances from her circlet to her shoes: all with the utmost care. He misses nothing.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, softly. "I shall see to our prince's fate this instant. No aid can you summon then. Who would pay heed, regardless? You were not present for your own presentation."

Rydia stiffens. His boots echo across the tiles. His care and soft steps still make a sound clear to her ears. It's too loud. Those are the boots of a warrior, not a peasant. Her hands clench at the stone. She heaves a deep breath.

Then she departs. She races in to the room and out through the door. The long corridors with soaring ceilings reach out for miles on either side. She clenches her jaw, hands fisted. Right, then left. She scurries away, indecisive. The smaller corridors that lead to other areas meet her scrutinising glare.

No trace has been left behind. She scowls. It's as though he's vanished in to thin air. She reluctantly retreats. Her footfalls echo down the corridors as she turns. She glances over her shoulder from time to time, hoping to glimpse a fleeting shadow. None appear.

He watches her retreat from the shadows. He waits and malice encircles his will. The guards he had summoned swiftly arrive. They fall into step with Rydia and raise their spears. The tips shimmer with the poison he secretly coated them with.

His glee is short lived, however. A clear aura of disapproval emanates from behind. She isn't nearby but he knows it's Rosa. A stab of anger floods his veins and he stalks after Rydia. He glowers at her in frustration. The power he has over Rosa is one that grants him absolute control, yet his heart still falters at her disappointment in him.

He rounds a corner and halts. The guards have paused as well. They face one another. The stare they share over Rydia's oblivious head is one that he recognises. A snarl rips up his throat. He lunges from the darkness to salvage what he deems a valid source of amusement.

The spears smash against the walls and clatter to the ground. Some of the poison leaks from the tip. Another snarl tears at his throat. It's mixed poison and not all of it is his doing. He digs his nails into the icy marble of the floor.

"You…"

He turns, eyes blazing. Rydia stiffens. Her eyes widen with terror but she utters not a sound. She hasn't seen anything like it. His fury is inhuman. It's something from the nightmarish tales that the children of the poor shared that she had once so greatly envied. She feels no envy now, wanting nothing more than her palace and the servants of her homeland where no nightmare can touch her.

She takes a deep breath as decorum fills her mind. "Thank you,"

He pauses. The fire in his eyes dims.

He allows a cruel, questioning smirk. "Excuse me, my lady?"

She raises her head and feels her confidence grow. "Thank you. If it were not for you then I would have died. I am indebted to you,"

He nods dumbly. The flames weaken further. The notion of ending her idiocy comes to him. He toys with it for a moment. Then, it dies. It bursts to flames and slowly turns to an ashen death. His senses return and he sweeps into a bow.

"Thank me not, my lady," he smirks to the ground. "I did as any in my position would do."

**Author's Note: I've been mulling it over for a long, long time. I said that this was as Xú Chǎng Qīng and Z****ǐ**** Xu****ān, but I feel that I made a terrible comparison now. Yes, they were a source of infinite inspiration for the story but I feel that this is more inclined to Chóng Lóu and Zǐ Xuān even though she was trying to steal his heart to stay youthful for Chǎng Qīng and he was, well, unrequited… At least, that is how it is in the television show that I mostly detest. How strange that I can turn an unrequited love into love and yet I usually take a hammer or a mallet or an axe to all relationships that I write or dream.**

**I hope that you have enjoyed this thus far.**


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